


The Perils of Poetry

by Nasturtian



Series: John and John's Excellent Adventures [2]
Category: Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell (TV), Jonathan Strange & Mr Norrell - Susanna Clarke
Genre: M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and to John Donne, apologies to Williams Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-13
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-05-06 10:42:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5413778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nasturtian/pseuds/Nasturtian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Childermass and Segundus are in love, and they've finally admitted it to each other.  Realizing that he doesn't know nearly enough about this sort of thing, Segundus tries to fill in the gaps the only way he knows how: by reading books.  Specifically, Shakespeare's Sonnets and John Donne's naughtier poems.  </p><p>The method proves frighteningly effective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Perils of Poetry

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place after the events in Chapter 2 of my story "Loose Ends," but it can be read on its own.

_Poetry heals the wounds inflicted by reason._ ~ Novalis

 

John Segundus was in the library. He preferred it to his study when he had less-than-riveting work to do, and the stack of essays on Animal Familiars and the Modern Magician that needed correcting certainly qualified. The presence of students and teachers as they moved about the room, speaking in low voices or paging through books, acted as a useful stimulant. It was harder to waste time staring out the window when there were other people about to see him do it. 

Today, however, even this tactic failed to banish from his mind the memory of the night - was it really only two weeks ago? - when he and Childermass had sat before this very fireplace and spoken those heady first words of acknowledgement, of love, of a future together. 

But then came the next morning, and with it the news that Vinculus had failed to return from his foray to the nearby village pub. Childermass, muttering a stream of frustrated profanities under his breath, attempted to locate him using the Cards of Marseilles. 

"Have you found him?" Segundus had queried, looking over Childermass's shoulder at the battered cards, laid out among the detritus of breakfast on the school dining table. 

"More or less," said Childermass grimly. "He's been hinting that a visit to one of his wives is past due. I'd been putting him off. It looks like he's taken matters into his own hands." He sighed, stacked the cards together, and pocketed them. "I must go after him, I suppose. Lord knows what he might get up to if he's left on his own."

"I'll get Charles to saddle Brewer for you," said Segundus, trying to ignore the sudden clenching of his gut. 

"John," said Childermass, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I will return." The words were familiar, but the look in his eyes was new, and Segundus felt his stomach do another swoop. _How did the heart come to be credited with being the seat of all emotion,_ he wondered, _when it is the belly that reacts so strongly?_

And then Childermass had ridden away, like he had so many times before, leaving Segundus to carry on with the business of the school. Normally this was no hardship. But now the mental doors that Segundus had closed and locked against the impossible, ridiculous things that came into his head whenever he saw John Childermass had been kicked wide open, and he was not sure how to cope.

Segundus had devoted his life to magic. Nothing else was important to him. He knew that most people spent a great deal of their time cultivating relationships of various kinds; for himself, he had never felt the need for anything more demanding than a good friend or two. 

Then came Childermass, who was everything he was not: impressive, intimidating, and confident to such a degree that it rendered his social status almost moot. Whenever Segundus looked at Childermass's face, with its odd tree-root twist, he felt his very soul (with its own twist that he had only ever dimly acknowledged) reach out to the man. Alarmed by the strength of this yearning, Segundus exerted his considerable powers of concentration to seal off this part of himself, and then to destroy it through neglect. 

For many years he had thought this approach to be a success. Then, to his immense surprize, Childermass told him that he loved him. Segundus then discovered that his preoccupation with Childermass, instead of dying off, had thriven in the darkness of his unconscious self, and responded to the declaration with amazed joy.

But now - what? Less than twelve hours after their mutual confession, they were parted. They had spent a few intoxicating hours talking of nothing in particular, sitting rather closer together than necessary, and exchanging many a smiling glance. Then they had retired, each to his own room, for not nearly enough sleep before Segundus's manservant had knocked on his door, bearing morning tea and the news of Vinculus's absence. 

This left Segundus with a problem. He had spent so many years stifling all thoughts regarding Childermass that he found himself unequal to the task of even daydreaming about the man. He wished to be near him - that was certain. He wished to hear his voice, to touch his hands, to feel the texture of his hair. Beyond that, however...his romantic vocabulary was essentially non-existent. 

Segundus considered his options. He rejected the idea of discussing the matter with Mr Honeyfoot (who helped him run the Starecross School for Magicians), or with Levy, Purfois, and Hadley-Bright, who did some teaching when they were not busy with their own researches. The students? The servants? Out of the question. That left him with books, his lifelong companions and helpers. 

The library at Starecross held many books _about_ magic, one book _of_ magic (two if Segundus's copious notes on Vinculus's tattoos counted), and an eclectic array of fiction and poetry left from the days when Lady Pole had lodged there. Segundus thought that his best bet was to study the poets (although Miss Austen's _Pride and Prejudice_ had been useful in helping him and Childermass find the words for their first tender overtures). So, hoping that no one would notice him scouring the non-magical section of the shelves, he had collected some likely-looking volumes and began his quest for information on the state of Being In Love.

He began with Shakespeare, since that was the name he was most familiar with, and because there was a rather handsome edition of his _Sonnets_ available. As he was only able to conduct his extracurricular inquiry when he was not busy with school-related duties, this kept him occupied for about a week. He pondered a great many of the lines as he tried to apply them to his situation. 

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate" from Sonnet 18 was delightful, although it did not really seem to fit the atmosphere of danger and adventure that surrounded Childermass.

Sonnet 27 held some interesting lines:

"Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,  
The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;  
But then begins a journey in my head,  
To work my mind, when body's work's expired...  
...Lo, thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,  
For thee and for myself no quiet find."

Segundus was reassured to see that nocturnal problems with the inner eye were a common complaint amongst lovers - and he felt his face heat as he realized that, for the first time, "lover" was a term that applied to him.

At Sonnet 51's "Then can no horse with my desire keep pace" he laughed outright, envisioning Childermass galloping dramatically back to him aboard Brewer, his great, untiring stallion. 

Sonnet 53 asked "What is your substance, whereof are you made, That millions of strange shadows on you tend?" This described the way he felt when watching Childermass so perfectly that he paused to copy it out on a scrap of paper, for future reference.

When he got to Sonnet 61 ("For thee watch I while thou dost wake elsewhere, From me far off, with others all too near") it prodded him in the organ of jealousy so sharply that he closed the book and went for a walk. 

After Shakespeare, Segundus tried a more contemporary poet - William Wordsworth - and found his words beautiful, but not suited to his current purpose. (He especially enjoyed the one about the daffodils.)

The next book in the pile was called _The Complete Poetry & Selected Prose of John Donne._ A cursory scan of the book shewed that the prose section was dominated by sermons. Segundus eyed it doubtfully, wondering if he was in for a collection of devotional exercises. He slipped the book underneath the essays that he was supposed to be correcting and took it with him to the library anyway, just so that he would have something to read if the marking grew too wearisome.

Which brings us back to where we began: Segundus was in the library, not paying nearly enough attention to his task. In addition to suffering the effects of love and a surfeit of poetry, he was preoccupied with the letter from Childermass that had arrived the day before.

 _...I found Vinculus without much trouble_ [Childermass wrote]. _He was on his way to see Nan Purvis, his first wife, as we'd guessed. I reached a bargain with him: if I allowed him three days in the bosom of his family, he would then accompany me to London. There I tracked down the Frenchmen who did the engravings for Strange's book and hired them to precisely copy the markings on Vinculus's skin. I believe that it is wise to capture the letters as they appear on his body and not merely the letters themselves, in case this has some bearing on their meaning._

_M'sieurs Minervois and Forcalquier have made a good start. They will not need Vinculus's physical presence for a while after today, and I plan to return with him to Starecross by Friday, to deliver my scheduled lecture to the senior students._  
Yours  
John Childermass 

That final salutation occupied a great deal of Segundus's thoughts. ( _Yours._ ) As did the fact that today was Friday.

Realizing with a sigh that marking was a lost cause, Segundus pulled the volume of Donne's writings out from under the essays. _Even if the poems are as dry as dust, at least someone else has already edited them,_ he thought, and opened the book. 

It proved far more entertaining than he had expected. Segundus lost all track of time as he browsed through songs, sonnets, and epigrams, pleasantly shocked by Donne's sly innuendos and layered meanings. _This man wrote sermons?_ He was halfway through Elegy 19 when he came across some lines that brought the blood rushing to his face:

"License my roving hands, and let them go,  
Before, behind, between, above, below.  
O my America! my new-found-land,  
My kingdom, safeliest when with one man mann’d...  
Full nakedness! All joys are due to thee,  
As souls unbodied, bodies uncloth’d must be,  
To taste whole joys..."

Segundus stared down at the book, his heart and stomach performing an acrobatic double act. He was acquainted with the theory of what activities people engaged in behind their bedroom doors, but seeing it spelled out with such unabashed delight stunned him. Until this moment his most private fantasies had featured himself and Childermass gazing into each other's eyes, embracing, perhaps even...kissing. Now his imagination, newly schooled in regarding life through the lens of poetry, sprinted past such decorous caresses and dove straight into bed, leaving a trail of hastily-shed garments behind it. 

"Ah, good day to you, Childermass! I didn't realize you were back," said Hadley-Bright, his hearty voice bringing Segundus back the present with a jolt. His head snapped up. Childermass had just strolled into the library, still wearing his greatcoat and hat.

"Good day to you too, Hadley-Bright. I've just this moment arrived, but I thought I'd better check with the headmaster here and see if the Green Room is set up for my lecture on the King's Book." He looked at Segundus, eyebrows raised. "Well, sir?"

"Ah - er - yes, all is ready," stammered Segundus, hastily closing the book and gathering the essays on top of it in a disheveled sheaf.

"So you retrieved our errant original text?" said Hadley-Bright. "I don't mind telling you, we were a trifle concerned."

"The original text is safely in the kitchen, eating a pork pie," said Childermass, leaning against the mantelpiece. This placed him about three feet away from Segundus, who was struggling against the most extraordinary sensations and trying not to shew it.

 _He smells of horse. And tobacco. And leather. "...we easily know,/ By this these Angels from an evil sprite,/Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright,"_ he thought wildly, as the blood left its post in his cheeks and reconvened in a somewhat more southerly region. 

Childermass and Hadley-Bright were conversing easily about the engraving process. Segundus stood up abruptly, half-hunched over as he clutched the essays and book in both arms. 

"Do excuse me, gentlemen," he managed, and fled to his study. 

As soon as he was safely inside he dropped the book and essays onto a convenient piece of floor, slammed the door behind him, and leaned back against it, covering his face with his hands. He groaned quietly but with profound feeling.

"Arrrk," said Merlin, the tame raven, from his perch by the window.

"Merlin," said Segundus, peering at the feathered creature through his fingers, "Take it from me: poetry is far more dangerous than any magic that I have ever encountered."

The raven cocked a bright eye at him. 

Segundus lurched over to the chair behind his desk and collapsed into it, pulling his own hair in his distraction. "Curse John Donne and his inflammatory words!"

Merlin, unconcerned with the antics of his human flunkey, wiped his beak on the stone casing of the window a few times with a sound like chalk on a slate. 

"See, this is why I have made it a rule to never get caught up in this sort of thing," Segundus said indistinctly, slumped forward with his face on the desk. "I can't very well avoid it now, can I? I am unused to governing these passions..."

There was a knock at the door.

"Yes?" said Segundus, not lifting his head.

"It's Mrs Pleasance, sir," came the housekeeper's familiar voice. "Will you be taking tea in your study?"

"Yes, if you please."

"Are you all right, sir? You don't sound like yourself, if you'll pardon me for saying so."

"I don't feel like myself, Mrs Pleasance. Nothing serious - and I am certain I shall recover all the faster for a spot of tea."

"Right you are, Mr Segundus."

He heard her footsteps retreating down the passage. When he was sure she was out of earshot he resumed his one-sided conversation with Merlin.

"I didn't even say hello...he was glad to see me, I could tell by his face...and then I just ran away! What must he be thinking of me?"

"He's wondering what on earth you've been doing this past fortnight," said Childermass, from the other side of the desk.

"Good Lord!" cried Segundus, sitting up so fast in his fright that he nearly toppled over backwards. "Where did you come from?"

"I came through the mirror," said Childermass, indicating the small rectangle of reflective glass on the back of the door. Segundus had hung it there after one too many resigned sighs from his manservant about appearing with smudges of ink on his face. "You should really keep that turned around if you don't want unexpected guests."

"Apparently," gasped Segundus. "Er - aren't you meant to be in the Green Room?"

Childermass dropt into the chair usually occupied by whatever student Segundus was tutoring and crossed his legs. He had shed his greatcoat and hat but retained his riding boots. "Aye, that I am. But I told them that I wanted to change out of my traveling things first."

"And to take a quick walk along the King's Roads."

"I wanted to talk to you. It was a shortcut." He studied Segundus with narrowed eyes. "Are you going to tell me what the matter is, then? You aren't - having regrets?"

"Oh no," Segundus hastened to assure him. "Not a bit! Never that."

"Then what? Back in the library you looked at me like I was a ghost! I thought you were going to be sick."

Segundus opened his mouth, prepared to say "I've been reading poetry and now I can't control my physical response to you," then thought better of it and closed his mouth again. 

"Come on," encouraged Childermass. "Spit it out."

Segundus was about to make another attempt when he heard footsteps again. "Mrs Pleasance!" he hissed, leaping up.

"What has she got to do with it?"

"She's bringing me tea - thinks I'm under the weather. Would you mind - ?" But Childermass had already come around to his side of the desk and efficiently folded himself up behind the modesty panel. A moment later there was a knock at the door. 

Segundus opened it and greeted the housekeeper with as much grace as he could muster. "Ah, thank you, Mrs Pleasance," he said, relieving her of the tea tray.

"Enjoy, Mr Segundus. I hope it does you good. You're alone in here, are you? Thought I heard voices on my way up the hall, but there - you were probably talking to your bird again."

"He's always ready to lend a sympathetic ear, Mrs Pleasance."

She chuckled, bobbed a half-curtsey, and went away again. Segundus balanced the tray on one hand and shut the door with the other. When he turned around it was to see Childermass peering out from his hiding place. 

"All clear?" he whispered, grinning like a schoolboy.

"Yes," responded Segundus in equally hushed tones. "Care for some tea? There's only one cup, but we can share."

"That would be grand. I'm parched."

"We can stop whispering now, you know."

"True. And it's not as though anyone would give it a thought if I were to be seen in your study at this time of day."

"Yes, except that you're meant to be in your room getting ready to lead a discussion about the King's Book."

"Oh yes. That. Tea first - and I still want to know what's bothering you, John."

The use of his Christian name made Segundus jump slightly, rattling the tea tray as he set it on the desk. "All right. I'll tell you. It's nothing so horrible, it's just rather embarrassing for me."

"I'm sure we'll be confessing all sorts of things to each other over the years," said Childermass, helping himself to bread and butter. "Might as well start now. Out with it, then. You have amply succeeded in piquing my curiosity."

They had ended up trading seats - Childermass in Segundus's chair, and Segundus in the students' - and faced each other across the ink-pen-and-paper-littered expanse of the desk. While they took turns drinking tea from a china cup, Segundus explained the program of study he had pursued over the last two weeks. He kept his eyes on Merlin as he did so, finding it easier to watch the bird strutting back and forth on his perch than to meet Childermass's eyes, afraid of what he might see there. When at last he finished he looked at him, and saw neither scorn nor ridicule in the other man's face, but instead an expression of such complexity that he was quite unable to interpret it. He held his gaze, waiting to see what Childermass would say.

"John Segundus," said Childermass. "You are a marvel."

"Er - "

"Do you know, in all my life, I have never once considered that someone would have to turn to poetry because of how they felt about me?" His tone was light, but his look was serious. "I think you must really love me." Then the laughter lines gathered at the corners of his eyes as he went on: "So that was what was ailing you back there! I did not realize my sudden appearance would have such a dire effect upon you. Am I to avoid you in public places from now on?"

"Don't be absurd," said Segundus, reddening ( _of course_ ) at the gentle teasing. "It was the timing, that is all - you being there just after I had been thinking about - such things - for the first time - and smelling you - "

"I beg your pardon? What do I reek of that drove you to such an extremity?"

Segundus coughed. "Your pipe - and Brewer - "

" _Brewer?_ You mean you were overcome with desire because I smell like my horse?" Childermass seemed hugely entertained by this revelation. "I shall start sleeping in the stable, if it pleases you so much!" He then leaned forward, inhaling deeply.

"What are you doing, you absurd man?"

"Smelling you. Fair's fair. Mmm - let's see - ink, of course, and old books - and - you had kippers for breakfast, unless I'm much mistaken."

"Stop that at once. You are ridiculous," said Segundus, trying to sound stern but unable to keep a smile from emerging. 

"No, you smell too good - I must have you!" laughed Childermass, allowing himself to fall back into his seat.

They looked at each other for a moment. Then Childermass finished the last mouthful of tea in the cup, got up, and bowed. "It pains me to say it, but I must go and give a lecture on the progress of the King's Book. Normally I love nothing more than to hear myself talk, but I find myself strangely distracted." He went to the mirror, then turned back and said: "I think we both have work to do this afternoon, so I will say farewell for now. Is there a mirror in your bedroom?"

"Why, yes, there is," said Segundus, taken off guard by the change of subject.

"Make sure you don't turn it to the wall. I would like to call on you this evening, if that is agreeable to you."

"It is most agreeable," said Segundus, almost managing not to mind the flush that immediately swept across his face.

Childermass nodded, then stooped quickly and picked up Donne's book from where it still lay on the floor. "This is coming with me. I want to read these remarkable verses for myself," he said, winking.

"Oh dear," said Segundus, running both hands through his hair so that it stood out in a number of unusual directions. "I feel I have made a dreadful fool of myself."

"I suppose you have - but you're not alone in that. I, for instance, have been writing you love letters for years. Maybe it's time for you to actually read them."

Segundus let out a disbelieving snort. "Love letters? To me?"

"Aye, reams and reams. Ghastly drivel, but it got me through. I will see you at supper, John, and - later as well."

"Yes, John."

Childermass vanished into the glass.

**Author's Note:**

> Well. Not the kindest place to stop, but the story just WOULD NOT go any further for me at the moment, so I decided to post it as is and see if anything else will come along later. Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Oh, and I have a [tumblr](http://nasturtian.tumblr.com) \- stop by and say hello!


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